


the small things

by oceandawn



Series: in another life [2]
Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceandawn/pseuds/oceandawn
Summary: sometimes love declarations aren't the be all and end all of relationships. it's about time, care and being there every step of the way; the small things no one else notices.or; missing scene from 12/03/2020
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Series: in another life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924921
Comments: 14
Kudos: 138





	the small things

**Author's Note:**

> so as soon as i saw ben walking down the stairs after callum in that ep, this idea popped in my head. im not gonna lie, i miss their soft scenes a lot :(
> 
> also i changed one of their canon lines because i wanted it to... fit better? i hope that doesn't make anyone angry but it's just one small change
> 
> big love to hovis shelley and court for helping me with the title <3

_there's always room in your heart, no matter how small. it's finding that willingness to open it being the most difficult. the will to let someone in._

Time blends so much now that Ben feels uneasy. His days are mostly trying to cope with his hearing, trying to ignore it at the same time, a blend of _it'll be fine_ and _it'll come back._

The doctor said it wouldn't, but Ben is Ben. He's stubborn, wants things his own way, and for the first time he has no control over what happens, or _how_ it happens. 

And he's scared. Isolated, bewildered and _scared._

 _Ben_ feels like a burden, having to watch everyone talk slowly so he can try and deduct a language he was born with from someone's lips. Everyone smiles at him, says they'll stay, promise that through everything they'll stick together and support him.

But he can't hear what they say behind his back, can't understand the heated arguments when Ben can't understand them for the fifth time. Ben just wants to close his eyes, let the muffled silence drown him until it all just goes away.

It won't. Ben knows that, deals with it every day, but it doesn't stop him hoping that he'll wake up from this bad dream, using it as a guide so he can fix all of the mistakes he's already seen play out.

It's not. It's all real, Ben can feel the pain scratch against his throat when he cries, and then a force pushing outwards from inside his chest when he tries _not_ to cry. 

He feels it now, that push, the winding noise in his head that makes Ben sink his head deeper into the pillow, wanting and wishing for a big reset button.

A hand presses to his lower back, softly, not to make Ben jump. And then there's another one, soothing through his hair at the top of his head.

_Callum._

Ben doesn't want to be like this, cowering, trying to be invisible because that's how he feels, as if he doesn't register with the world anymore. But Callum always pulls him back, the connection with the world Ben thinks he's lost.

He places a gentle kiss between the gap in Ben's shoulder blades, and Ben can feel the tips of his fringe fall over his skin, tickling him slightly. Ben smiles into the pillow, and Callum breathes in deep when he leans his head against his back.

Back then, he'd mumble _good morning_ against his skin, and Ben would smirk and turn over, pulling him in and quipping back _good morning to me indeed._ It's nothing like that anymore, the easy atmosphere, the shared smiles and laughter that would carry on through their breakfast.

Now, Ben doesn't move, accepts Callum's admiration with nothing in return because he has no energy for it.

And Callum gives and _gives,_ not expecting anything. Ben just wants to shake him, ask _why stick around? Why settle for this?_

Every time, though, his thoughts go back to the day Callum returned home, when he twisted him around to face him after Ben told him to go find someone else, that he wasn't worth it.

He told him; _"Hearing, deaf - doesn't matter to me. I love you, and that means all of you, Ben."_

But even despite that, doubt lingers, sickly like tar, and Ben doesn't ever think it'll go away. 

Callum might. He might go away when it all gets too much, when the weeks go by and nothing changes, when he realises this is the new Ben, not the one he fell in love with.

It's difficult to think that, not when moments like this are so overwhelming, so insignificant to someone outside of their relationship that Ben almost wants to cry. 

Callum keeps kissing the skin between his shoulder blades, just a gentle press of his lips and nothing more, moving over to his shoulder when the seconds tick by. He says a lot through actions now, not words, since they don't work the same as they used to.

He doesn't want Ben to try so hard to fix himself, to make himself frustrated because he can't lip read at the best of times. Callum just wants to love him, _all_ of him, through the good and the bad.

Ben grumbles, shifts when Callum smoothes his hand round to Ben's stomach, thumb moving in circles. His skin is rough from the army, but Ben loves it all the same. It's grounding, how it scratches a little, reminding Ben the world isn't perfect, that a man as perfect as Callum also has little cracks and seams of imperfections.

But they're not, really. Time scars us all in one way or another.

"Ben," Callum whispers into his skin, and Ben feels it, knows how the notes of Callum's voice rumble against him. 

Ben doesn't move though, grasping Callum's hand and pulling it up towards his chest. There's a clink of a spoon downstairs, but Ben can't hear it, wouldn't know it's morning if not for the clock on the bedside table.

Callum sighs, hugging him closer, hand flat against his chest, thumb soothing over his heart now.

"Don't leave," mumbles Ben, still having not moved. "Not yet."

It's like clockwork to speak, to say _I won't_ as he used to. Callum swallows, closes his eyes because he doesn't need them right now. His head falls against Ben, nuzzling gently into the notches of his spine, feels Ben exhale. The way he pulls Ben closer with the hand on his chest, uses the hand going through his hair to sneak it under Ben and hug him entirely against his own body.

He feels safe, he feels like he's allowed to cry when Callum's there. In his arms, warm and held like he's the only thing that matters, Ben does believe he's capable of love because he _feels_ it, heart echoing louder, his tongue desperate to say eight little letters that are so foreign yet known at the same time.

Ben wants to say them, shout them, whisper them in a way it'll tattoo Callum's skin like it has for Ben. Every time Callum looks at him, mouths the words, whispers them into his skin like a promise, draws them onto his back -- Ben is hit by how much he loves him back, how much Callum is the only one.

The only one to still hold his heart so weakly even after Ben hurled it as far as he could, kissed him when he thought no one else would, _loved_ Ben like he never thought he would love again.

His heart sings, beats for Callum, elevates when he's around to the point where he feels silly. There's no possible way someone can be _this_ in love.

But then Callum is writing on his skin again, this time with the finger over his heart, drawing one of his own. It burns his skin, stays mentally there like a tattoo, and Ben smiles. His eyes well up, and it's then that Ben moves, chin moving down to his chest and curling up, Callum moving around him as he settles one last kiss on his shoulder.

 _Toast?_ is drawn into his arm, and Ben laughs.

"I don't wanna' move," Ben says, voice a little cracked. "Just wanna' stay here." It's warm, cozy, and he has the man he loves holding him so tight, so closely that Ben never wants this to end.

But it has to. Callum has work again, Ben has to face the day, do _Ben things_ to a standard he can. 

Callum nuzzles into his back again, and in fairness, he doesn't want to leave either. Despite being back almost a week now, it doesn't feel like enough, ribs still sore and bruises still biting when he moves too quick.

Ben moves again, rolling around in his arms to press his forehead against Callum's chest. Callum just readjusts, hands settling on his back, fingers drawing gentle patterns, twists and turns that almost lull Ben back to sleep. 

But Ben opens his eyes, sees the purple and blue and swallows a rock so big he feels it might have sliced him open. 

He hates this, seeing Callum this way, _being_ the reason this happened. Old war scars seem like tickles compared to the dark colours that ink his skin, angry in some areas still, bad memories that are physically there in a visual form.

Ben moves his hand over them, fingertips as gentle as can be. Callum just closes his eyes, nuzzles his nose into Ben's hair and stays there, hums when Ben tickles him just at the bottom of his ribs.

 _"Sorry,"_ whispers Ben, and Callum kisses his head, another way of saying _it's alright._

Callum has endured so much physical pain, more threads of anxiety tied to the already existing in his head. He made sure he remained awake until Ben found him, knew he would, and now it's as if Callum never wants a second without knowing Ben's there.

He moves his head back a little, prompting Ben to look up at him from where it rests against the pillow, hand still softly moving over the bruises. Callum meets eyes with him, smiles a small smile and takes a hand that's settled on Ben's back to place it gently on his face, cupping his cheek.

Ben closes his eyes, just for a moment, exhales with a shake because Ben has never felt this way before. The utter care and sincerity in his movements, the way Callum's thumb brushes just under his eye, fingers moving just over the hinge of his jaw.

Callum waits until he opens his eyes again, and when that blue meets him, Callum feels emotions wash over him. Ben is here, they're safe, warm in the safety of their bedroom. It's all Callum wants, all he needs, and frankly he could stay here until his legs cramp because this is a small slice of heaven - _their heaven._

He tips Ben's head a little, moves his head forward so Callum can kiss him softly, again and _again_ until Ben's lips are moving against his. Ben's whole body curls into it, wraps his arms tightly around Callum so there's not an inch between them, and _sighs._

Callum feels it against his face, Ben's exhale, the tension bleeding from his body because there's no doubt in his mind Callum loves him when he's kissing him like this.

It's only when being alone outweighs his thoughts of being back with him that the thought of love is taken away, crunched and twisted in Ben's own, cold hands.

When Callum pulls away, his thumb remains brushing over his cheek, pressing a little more in some places because he's aware Ben doesn't want to be treated like glass. But it doesn't stop Callum from adoring him, softly, as he usually would.

Callum kisses the tip of his nose, leaning up a little to kiss at his cheek, then up to Ben's temple and one final one on his forehead before moving back down. Ben closes his eyes, jaw a little forward, asking silently, and Callum knows that face by now.

He kisses him again, Callum's arm tucked under his body pulling him in, rolling Ben's body into his so that Callum has most of his back against the sheets.

But it's when Callum pulls away that Ben groans, drops his head back to the pillow as Callum sits up, arm that was tucked around him now resting by his side.

Callum rubs his hands over his face, using one to lean on, sighing when he feels a bit of resistance on his chest.

Ben mumbles beside him, walking his fingers up Callum's arm until the man looks back at him, "call in sick."

Callum smiles, shakes his head.

"Please?" Ben doesn't want this to end. 

Neither does Callum, but he's spent too long wrapped up in paradise, and the more he stays indulging, the more he'll end up staying here in the comfort of Ben until he's old and grey.

Granted, he is, now that he thinks about it, but Callum can't stay in bed and sigh at the small touches and admirations Ben gives him because the outside world says otherwise. _The little things,_ like Ben's smile, his hand brushing over his stomach, and Callum just wants to fall back to the sheets and slot his head between the gap in Ben's shoulder and his head.

Ben's doing that pouty thing he does, but it's less of a joke and more of a need, because as soon as Callum leaves, the silence becomes louder, overwhelming until he feels like he's lost in his own body.

"I have work, babe," Callum leans down, unaware if Ben could lip read that, but Ben already knows he has to leave. He just doesn't want him too.

 _"Callum,"_ whispers Ben, hand going through the fluffy fringe he adores when it's not held together by gel. "Just one more day."

Callum lets his forehead rest on Ben's chest, never knowing how to deny Ben anything because he always wants the same. But his heart reminds him of how much he loves Ben, that it's never just _one more day_ for them, that it's a multitude of them, a _lifetime_ if Ben would want that.

He leans over, grabs his phone from the side, and Ben immediately sighs, _hates_ this method of communicating but it's the only practical way until Ben makes the big decision. Callum has a plan up his sleeve though, that'll help him even if he decides one or the other.

Callum shows him the screen; _I'll make it up to you. Promise._

And even though Ben knows he will, he still grumbles, accepting the kiss Callum places on his lips, "Alright, fine. Don't come crying to me over text when you're bored at work and you should've stayed in bed with me."

Callum laughs as he leaves the bed, walking around the end of it to approach the wardrobe that basically confirms they're living together. He has a few suits here, that one grey hoodie Ben steals from time to time, shirts, socks; every essential is here. It's the same at his flat, too, Ben's shirts hung up by another set of work suits, his shoes still at the end of the bed from the other week, and a hearing aid that isn't much use to him anymore stored as a spare in his bedside table.

They're not saying it because what's the point? They already are, and saying it is only going to make them laugh, smile and then say _we really are, aren't we?_

Ben watches, turns over back onto his side as he was before, Callum picking out a shirt and tie.

He dresses quickly, much quicker than Ben can because they both know he has a tendency to change his shirt one or two times.

Callum is halfway through the buttons on his shirt when he takes hold of the tie, and suddenly, his body loses the warmth it gained from Ben not long ago. His fingertips shake, reminding him of the day he was separated from Ben, from everyone, from the family he's made all on his own.

Ben notices his hesitation, the way Callum shakes his head to try and ignore it, but there's no way he can tie it properly when his hands can barely hold the material.

The bed doesn't feel welcome anymore, not when Ben is there and Callum isn't. Ben uncurls himself from the sheets, gets up while a whistle goes off in his ears and steps towards Callum.

Callum jumps when Ben places his hands on his hips, breathing shaky when he exhales. Ben can feel his chest expand when he sucks in air again, and Ben places his head against Callum's back, nuzzling into him.

Ben would ask if he's alright, but he's not, as clear as day in the way tension pulls Callum's muscles completely taut.

But with Ben, it eases, and Callum manages to finish the rest of the buttons of the white shirt, ignoring the tie that feels like a snake around his throat, _constricting._

"I can tie it for you," Ben says, winding his arms around Callum, breathing in the softener weaved into the shirt from its last wash.

Callum smiles, dips his head, watches the shake in his hands grow again when just the thought of that tie brings so many horrible memories back. Ben's hands reach up, taking them and intertwines their fingers. He places them against Callum's stomach, and Ben allows him time.

It's almost a minute later when Callum turns around, a little uneasy in the way he smiles, bringing Ben's hands to his lips to kiss each knuckle gently.

Ben _swoons,_ thumps his forehead against his chest afterwards, smiling from ear to ear. Callum taps his arm, gets Ben's attention.

"Out of bed, then?"

His eyes stay on his lips until they stop moving, looking up to Callum's eyes once more, "boring without you."

They both know why Ben got out of bed, not because of boredom.

For Callum, it makes him cherish the relationship he has with him, that Ben won't see his suffering as something that'll go away, that something embedded in his bones could somehow be fixed with a few hours in bed. Ben knows it's part of him, and it gives Ben that pride of being there for someone, helping them, being a better person than he gives himself credit for.

Ben takes each length of the tie, the fabric rather cold, and he frowns at remembering how cold Callum felt when he found him. Callum settles his hands on Ben's waist, always wanting that physical connection in some way.

Callum never leaves Ben's eyes, calming the race of his heart as the tie is folded and pushed up to sit at his neck. Ben couldn't really do them before, always struggling, but Callum was the one to teach him when he started to run his businesses without the shadow lingering behind them.

"There," Ben says, patting his chest, "as handsome as ever."

He smiles, meeting Callum's own smile as the gentle giant cups his face with both hands, pressing their foreheads together as Callum whispers a gentle _thank you_ Ben reads easily. 

Callum breaks away to collect his suit jacket, Ben crossing his arms. He _really_ doesn't want Callum to leave. Maybe he'll visit him at work, bug Stuart to let him leave early and just turn away when Stuart argues back so he can't lip read. 

But the reality of their small bubble popping becomes ever more apparent when Callum picks out the maroon shirt from his wardrobe, rolling his shoulders so the jacket fits naturally. 

"Here," he says, and Ben just looks at him. "Breakfast."

Ben mumbles a _fine,_ accepting the shirt Callum offers and pulling it over his head. Callum rustles his hand through his hair, grabs some gel and Ben mourns the bed hair that's now lost to the horrors of hair product.

"You suck," Ben turns away, grabbing his shoes and finishes getting dressed. Callum waits by the door for him, having already popped to the bathroom to freshen up.

When Ben is ready to head downstairs, Callum takes his hand, pulls him into a hug that makes Ben _melt._ Callum kisses his hair, soothes a hand up and down his back, squeezes the hand he still holds by their side and _sighs._

They'll have this again, tonight, and they'll repeat it every day until one of them gets sick of the other. But they both know that won't happen, because they don't want any other scenario.

They just want this, to be there for each other's demons, both each other's angels. From the warmth of their embraces, to the soft way in which Callum takes his hand, reassures him that he's there in a world of silence, that he'll _always_ be there.

Ben lets his head fall back, kisses Callum's lips one last time before Callum clicks the door open, and the noise of the world becomes loud, even for Ben.

Callum mouths _love you_ before squeezing his hand again, and Ben feels his chest constrict. _Say it back, idiot._

Walking outside the bedroom, Callum doesn't let go of his hand until halfway down the stairs, Ben forgetting his phone. 

Lola and Lexi are there, and Callum feels awfully giddy at the thought of this being his family. He greets them as usual, aided by the private comfort he's just spent with Ben, and catches sight of his lover when he tries to sneak a spoon of cereal from Lexi's bowl.

He's reminded of Ben's increasing worry over his hearing when Lola asks for him to pick Lexi up today, and as he disappears down the hall, Callum makes a mental note to himself to start doing some research.

And if Callum steals an extra ten minutes with Ben, lazing around on their bed again, hand gently going through his hair to settle Ben's worry about Lexi -- Stuart doesn't need to know.

"Got you back into bed," Ben laughs, feels Callum's own shaking his chest. 

He kisses Ben's cheek, smoothes his thumb down the side of his ear. Despite how big and demanding the world is, Ben can always have this, _them,_ wrapped in sheets and arms that never want to let go.

Ben falls asleep not long after, Callum kissing his forehead as he straightens down his tie, shirt, everything that got crumpled thanks to Ben's embrace. 

Callum leaves a note attached to his glasses on the bedside, Ben smiling when he eventually reads it .

_Dinner tonight? Maybe we can finally have that chicken pasta._

_Love you,_

_C x_

Stuart isn't happy that he's late, but Callum couldn't care less when he's had a morning entirely devoted to giving and receiving comfort. He cares even less about the glare his brother gives him when he's distracted by his phone, love sick smile on his face.

_Ben: [I'll pop out to get the ingredients. See you tonight x]_

Callum smiles even more, drowns the protest from his brother about focusing on work, and excuses himself to leave work early.

_Callum: [see you in 5?]_

_Ben: [bored of stuart?]_

_Callum: [no, just miss you.]_

_Ben: [i'm just out with jay, i'll be home soon.]_

And when Ben falls into his arms ten minutes later, the shopping bag is ignored in favour of the couch and a blanket, Ben's head on his stomach and the easy commentary of some blockbuster film on the TV.

Ben hums, reading the subtitles but focusing more on Callum's fingers in his hair, the soft shoulder squeeze he does every other minute or so. Callum missed him, missed _this_ to the point where he was afraid of losing it.

And now, Callum does it more often, fleeting touches, more firm ones, a mix of both -- he just wants to be near him, show love through actions and not words.

What's happened to them won't change anything, it'll just look different on the outside. Everything will feel the same, the love they have, the care and admiration they have will all be the same, if not more.

They'll always be _Ben and Callum,_ carrying with them the suitcase full of insecurities and nightmares that haunt them both, but it's always a little easier when that person you call home helps carry some of that weight as their own.

Because Callum loves Ben, and Ben loves Callum, from before and now until whenever. And just that thought, that _tiny_ yet _huge_ promise of forever makes Ben turn his head towards him.

Callum smiles at him, brushes his thumb at the side of his lips as Ben smiles back. It's a mutual thing, the way they say _I love you_ without even saying it.

As Ben turns back to the TV, he pulls the blanket closer to his chest, taking one of Callum's hands to hold, brushing his thumb over the knuckles.

Touch is probably the most vital part of their relationship now, grounding a reality for Ben and soothing Callum's fear of never finding home. Little touches mean so much more than words now, the brush of thumbs, their foreheads touching, hands over hearts and drawing said hearts on skin.

It's their thing. Their small, little insignificant thing that means so much more.

It's the small things that make the biggest difference, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: oceandawns  
> tumblr: oceandawning


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